


Meet the Nikiforov-Plisetsky's

by krazieLeylines



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (also because reasons), (because reasons), (most likely), (well half-brothers), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Butler Cafes, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Chubby Katsuki Yuuri, Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Pining Katsuki Yuuri, Rating May Change, Victor and Yuri are brothers, loosely based on various sitcoms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 05:20:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10757541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krazieLeylines/pseuds/krazieLeylines
Summary: The circumstances that caused their strange predicament were both unusual and tragic. Yuuri had met both Viktor and Phichit in high school. Though they were all a year apart, they spent a lot of time together as the sole three boys in their school’s low-funded theater club. Viktor had grown up in the house with his single mother, and had inherited it upon her death four years ago, along with a surprisingly vast fortune.Yuuri and Phichit hadn’t planned to move in with him after high school, but Viktor was lonely and in mourning, so when he asked, it seemed rude to refuse.---An au where Viktor, Yuuri, and Phichit share a house in the suburbs, Yuuri pines relentlessly for Viktor, Phichit knowsallthe drama at the cafe where they work, and Viktor's mom failed to tell him a lot of things about her past.





	Meet the Nikiforov-Plisetsky's

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! So, I've been struggling for months trying to come up with an au that I could stick with. It was difficult to come up with an idea that incorporated everything I wanted to include in my next yoi fic. In the end, I came up with something _very_ different from anything than I had originally planned.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

\---

_WAMP, WAMP, WHAT’S NEW PUSSYCAT?_

That was the sound of the most annoying alarm in the history of mankind, and every morning, courtesy of Phichit, it was Yuuri woke up to.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri groaned, as per usual, “Turn it _off_.”

On the other side of the room, Phichit squirmed out of his self-made comforter burrito, and hit the snooze button just as Tom Jones starting singing about ‘cute little pussycat’ noses. Yuuri was really starting to regret asking Phichit to find a different song to play in the morning. (Before this, they would be greeted each morning by Rick Astley’s _Never Gonna Give You Up_ , which, while cringe-worthy due to the song’s meme status, at least was pleasant to listen to.)

The room went blissfully silent once more, as Yuuri rolled onto his back, fully prepared to laze about in bed for another few minutes until he had to get up. He closed his eyes, and let out a soft breath. Behind his eyelids, Yuuri could just barely recall fragments of last night’s dream. It had been unusually pleasant (no, not like _that_ , Yuuri told his inner Phichit), and he wanted to hang onto that feeling for a few more minutes. Though, it definitely _had_ been about a certain silver-haired bachelor. If Yuuri squeezed his eyes tight enough, he could almost still taste Viktor’s kiss on his lips. It had tasted just like Viktor’s expensive cherry lip balm, which he occasionally shared with Yuuri.

“Ahhh,” Yuuri sighed, unable to help himself, a goofy smile plastered onto his face. But it was only Phichit and a cage of hamsters in the room with him, so he didn’t feel too embarrassed about it.

Then the bedroom door flew open with a loud, echoing _WHOMP_.

Yuuri jolted upright, seconds before a huge weight tackled him back down onto the bed. Then a wet tongue was assaulting Yuuri, identifying the attacker.

“Mak-ah!-Makkachin,” Yuuri snorted, trying to wiggle his mouth out of range from the large poodle’s exuberant kisses. “Makka, stop!” Thankfully, the dog was incredibly well-mannered, and quickly retracted his face from Yuuri’s… only to then flop down onto Yuuri’s torso, knocking the breath out of him. “Ooof!”

All the ruckus had woken Phichit again, too. “Oh my god,” Phichit giggled. Then there was the distinctive _click_ of his phone’s camera.

“Good morning!”

Yuuri glanced over Makkachin’s head, frowning at the third man they shared the house with, who had just rudely let the poodle loose on him. Viktor didn’t look the least bit regretful. In fact, he looked rather like an overexcited dog himself, visibly vibrating where he stood.

“You two were already awake, weren’t you?” Viktor asked sweetly, when nobody returned his enthusiastic morning greeting.

“Barely,” Phichit scoffed. To emphasize his point, Phichit retreated back into his blanket cocoon.

Yuuri glanced to the hamster-shaped clock on the side table Phichit and he shared. “How can you possibly be so hyper at six in the morning?” Yuuri asked, holding Makkachin close like a curly-haired body pillow. Viktor may have been the most gorgeous human being on the face of the planet, so it was understandable that he had to make that up by having some flaws. But still, Yuuri wished that those flaws didn’t have to include being a goddamn _morning person_.

“ _I_ didn’t play Splatoon until way past midnight,” Viktor retorted. Then, he said the one thing that could always get Yuuri out of bed: “I’m making pancakes~!”

Even Phichit and Makkachin perked their heads up at that. Yuuri licked his lips, an involuntary reaction. _Damn Viktor, and his otherworldly baking skills_ , Yuuri thought, as he began untangling himself from his bed and canine snuggle buddy.

“Yay!” Viktor clutched victorious fists to his chest. 

\---

The circumstances that caused their strange predicament (in which the three young men shared a house in the suburbs) were both unusual and tragic. Yuuri had met both Viktor and Phichit in high school. Though they were all a year apart, they spent a lot of time together as the sole three boys in their school’s low-funded theater club. Viktor had grown up in this house with his single mother, and had inherited it upon her death four years ago (when Viktor was only 19), along with a surprisingly vast fortune. 

Yuuri and Phichit hadn’t planned to move in with him after high school, but Viktor was lonely and in mourning, so when he asked, it seemed rude to refuse. It worked out well, since living there was cheap. Yuuri and Phichit shared Viktor’s old room, while Viktor moved into the master bedroom. And the three of them rarely fought. 

Still, living with one’s crush of seven years came with its own challenges.

Such as when said crush wore ridiculously cute poodle-themed aprons while making pancakes in their shared kitchen. Viktor had his long, gorgeous hair pinned up in an untidy bun. Along with his neon yellow boxers and fuzzy bunny slippers, he was sporting a look that would have looked godawful on anyone that wasn’t him. Yuuri temporarily forgot how to function, so he just stood in the doorway and stared. Mostly at Viktor’s ass, which looked damn fine in neon yellow.

“Yuuri!” Phichit called out, breaking the booty-gawking trance Yuuri had been in. Phichit was already sitting at the table with a plate, as he always insisted on showering before Yuuri. (“You always daydream, and then use up all the hot water,” Phichit had informed him once.) “Look! Viktor made me hamster pancakes!”

After shaking his head to clear it of the lovesick haze fogging up his brain, Yuuri went to take a look. Sure enough, on Phichit’s plate, there sat three vaguely hamster-shaped pancakes. On top, Viktor had added an outline and some extra details in chocolate syrup, with two chocolate chips added on for the eyes. It was clear that Viktor had tried to mimic the cute cartoon hamster that Phichit had on his phone case. One of them had come out rather well, but the other two were lop-sided.

“Well… they _kind_ of look like hamsters,” Yuuri said, mostly just to tease Viktor.

It worked. “ _Kind of_?” Viktor gasped, in exaggerated offense, hand over his heart. (Really, sometimes Yuuri questioned his attraction to the man, but somehow Viktor could make even cheesy theatrics look hot.) “I don’t think they’re that bad, for my first time,” Viktor added, and turned back to the frying pan, “I got the idea from Pinterest. I thought you, of all people, would appreciate cute animal-shaped pancakes. Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to eat all the poodle pancakes myself.”

“You made poodle pancakes?” Yuuri headed to the counter, and grinned. There, on one of the larger platters Viktor had inherited, sat a few Makkachin-faced pancakes separated into neat little rows. Viktor had even added extra swirls around the ears, for the poodle’s curled fur, and also (Yuuri assumed) as an excuse to add extra chocolate syrup.

Viktor bumped Yuuri’s hip with his own. “So, are you interested in my pancakes now?”

“You know I can’t say ‘no’ to poodles,” Yuuri laughed, hip-checking Viktor in return. His chest throbbed with an overpowering fondness. _One day_ , his heart whispered. Unlike Yuuri’s brain, his heart hadn’t yet accepted the improbability of winding up in a romantic relationship with Viktor.

It wasn’t just that Viktor was unfairly handsome. It was that Viktor _knew_ it, knew the effect he had on people, knew that his success as a professional model was practically guaranteed. (And Viktor _did_ make all his money through modelling, because of course Yuuri couldn’t fall for a _normal_ , _everyday_ kind of person.) It was that Viktor was charismatic, charming, and emotionally stable… all things that were the exact _opposite_ of what Yuuri was.

So while Viktor was a successful, fully-functional adult, who had a healthily diverse range of interests ranging from reading classic novels to making arts and crafts, Yuuri was… well, Yuuri was the guy who ate too much, played too many video games, and who worked as a waiter at a café.

Really, Yuuri was lucky to be friends with Viktor. His stupid, naïve heart just didn’t understand that yet, that’s all.

\---

Speaking of that café… while it was Saturday, and people with respectable careers (like Viktor) didn’t have to work, Yuuri and Phichit still had a mid-day shift. The café in question was owned by the Nishigori’s, another Japanese-American family that Yuuri had known since he was a child. In fact, his own childhood friend Yuuko had married into the family.

The Ice Castle Café, as it was called, appeared inconspicuous enough from the outside. The red-brick building was perhaps a bit older than the other restaurants stretched along the quiet side street, but it advertised itself simply. The sign dangling above the door was merely a thick block of wood with _Ice Castle Café_ engraved deeply on it, and outlined in black ink. There were thin off-white curtains in the windows, to preserve the privacy of the guests inside. The only clue to the café’s true identity was the front door: windowless, made of high-quality wood, intricately carved, with medieval lion-headed brass knockers.

Working at a standard, American café likely would have been less embarrassing, even if it wouldn’t have paid as much. But the Ice Castle Café was not such an establishment. No, inside the inconspicuous looking building was a butler café. And despite the initial shock that came when it first opened, it had quickly become one of the most popular hang-outs for young and middle-aged women.

Yuuri and Phichit had to sneak in the back, in order to preserve the illusion. (Yuuri often justified his job by explaining to anyone who listened that it was basically the same thing as acting.)

The back door led directly into the hall separating the dressing room from the employee lounge. Yuuri and Phichit went to their lockers first to change. Someone (Georgi, most likely) had taped hand-drawn posters up all around the room, declaring that week’s theme. Yuuri didn’t have to even glance at them; today would be the last day of cat and dog week, a fact of which Yuuri was supremely grateful.

On the upside, cat and dog week didn’t require much of an addition to their usual work attire. Beyond the button-up, waistcoat, bow tie, dress pants, and apron that made up their butler uniforms, the only additional accessory they needed to wear was a headband. As expected, the headbands came in two varieties: one with cat ears, and one with dog ears.

After Yuuri finished changing, he grabbed the dog ear headband he had chosen earlier that week and used a couple of plain black barrettes to secure it to his head. He shook his head to ensure that the headband wasn’t going to fall off. His fake brown ears waved in front of his face like windshield wipers, but the band itself didn’t budge. Satisfied, Yuuri looked up, only to realize that Phichit was giggling silently at him.

“I still can’t get over how cute you look in that,” Phichit teased, “Please, I _have_ to take a picture and show Viktor. He will absolutely _die_.”

“No way! And stop asking.” Yuuri glowered at Phichit until he was certain that his friend wouldn’t try to sneak a snapshot. Of course, Phichit was right: Viktor would _die_ to see Yuuri dressed up in such a way. Yuuri already knew exactly what Viktor would say, how he’d gush and coo with that absurdly shaped smile of his. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was how Yuuri’s poor, hopeful heart wouldn’t able to handle it.

Just as Phichit was almost finished clipping in his own dalmatian patterned dog ears, a familiar cat-eared brunet popped his head around the corner.

“Oh, thank god you’re here,” Guang Hong gushed, his hair hilariously disheveled. (And Yuuri had a sinking feeling that it wasn’t from sneaking a make-out session with Leo in the storage closet.) Guang Hong beckoned them towards him. “It’s an absolute madhouse,” he explained, “Please clock in early, if you can.”

Phichit assured Guang Hong that they’d be out as soon as possible, and then clapped Yuuri hard on the back. “It’s show time, arf arf!”

\---

Of all the themed weeks that the Ice Castle Café had hosted over the years Yuuri had worked there, none of them were quite as demeaning as cat and dog week. (Though, perhaps he was just being a stick in the mud. Phichit, Guang Hong, and Leo all thought it was good fun.) Still, even if the ears were pretty cute, Yuuri couldn’t see the appeal of being waited on by people who were constantly meowing and woofing in between the sentences.

Sara, a reoccurring customer who always asked to be seated at either Yuuri or Seung-gil’s table, especially enjoyed it. She was already dancing in her seat when Yuuri went to take her order.

“Hey, Yuuri,” she sing-songed. Her hands were clasped by her face as if in prayer.

“Good morning, Mistress Sara,” Yuuri replied softly. All of the waiters that worked there had their own character, certain stereotypes that they played into for the sake of the experience. For Yuuri, that meant acting like the timid, bookish type. And while it wasn’t too far off from Yuuri’s true personality, he tended to exaggerate his natural shyness at work for the customers’ benefit. Then, remembering the week’s theme, Yuuri added a quiet, “Arf.”

“So _cuuute_ ,” Sara hummed, lowering her head down to rest in her palms. She giggled and glanced down at her menu for a second. “I think I want to try something new today. Do you have any recommendations?”

It was a question that Yuuri was well-accustomed to answering by now. He didn’t even need a moment to think it over, though he pretended to, anyway. “Well,” Yuuri said, “if you’d like to try something a little different, arf, I think I have just the thing. It’s an underappreciated item on the menu, but one of my favorites: the Matcha Frappe. It pairs well with our _senbei_ rice cracker plate. Arf, arf.”

“Mmm, sounds delish! Okay, I’ll take one of each, please.”

“Right away, Mistress.” Yuuri gave a slow bow, careful not to move too quickly and dislodge his dog ears. 

(He had done that on the first day, embarrassingly enough. It wouldn’t have been all that bad if not for the fact that it caught the attention of multiple customers, all of which fussed gleefully over his clumsy mistake.)

The next few hours continued with the same routine pattern. Yuuri waited on customers both familiar and new, tried to remember to woof now and again, and occasionally allowed someone to flirt with him. No matter how busy they were, he was expected to make small talk with anyone who expressed interest in it. After all, the customers weren’t just paying for the drink and food, they were here for the _experience_. Whenever Yuuri reminded himself of that fact, he found it easier to commit to his role.

The phrase _this is basically the same thing as acting_ became Yuuri’s inner-mantra.

Then, just as Yuuri’s shift was nearing its end, an arm snaked out from behind a potted plant and captured Yuuri’s elbow. Yuuri’s head snapped to the side, and he was instantly relieved to see that the hand grasping him belonged to Phichit. Hesitantly, Yuuri joined him behind the ficus.

“What’s this about?” Yuuri whispered. He was prepared for any number of scenarios. Phichit was the gossip king, after all. Perhaps someone else had been caught making out in the storage closet? Jean-Jacques already had a girlfriend, and Seung-gil was aromantic, but there had been some weird tension growing between Mickey and Emil lately…

Phichit placed his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders as if to steady himself. It must have been good gossip, then. “I’m just giving you the opportunity to prepare yourself,” he whispered back.

“To… prepare myself?”

Instead of answering verbally, Phichit pulled back some of the branches of the plant they were squatting behind. Yuuri peered out, and it didn’t take long for him to realize what the hell his best friend was talking about.

Because Viktor was there, standing by one of the tables. Chris, Viktor’s friend and fellow model, was hovering nearby. Both of them were deep in conversation with the young women at the table. It would appear that they were fans, if their muffled shrieks were any indication. But it wasn’t just that Viktor was there, in the café where Yuuri worked. No, Viktor had to show up looking as though he just came from a photo shoot. His hair was tied back into a high ponytail, except for his bangs which stylishly hid his left eye. He was wearing a tightly fitted dress shirt with the few first buttons popped open to reveal his collarbone and sternum, a rainbow of jangling bracelets down one arm, and dark jean pants rolled up to mid-calf. And, if Yuuri wasn’t mistaken, there was a bit of glitter makeup on his face.

“Phichit, I’m wearing _dog ears_ ,” Yuuri wailed in utter mortification, but softly so Viktor wouldn’t overhear them.

Phichit merely nodded.

“Phichit, he’s going to make a huge scene when he sees me,” Yuuri continued, feeling unsteady on his feet as all the possibilities swirled through his head, “I’m going to have to woof at him!”

Phichit squeezed Yuuri’s shoulders sympathetically. “It’s okay,” Phichit said, “Everything’s going to be okay. I’m going to go over and keep Viktor and Chris distracted until you’re ready to come over and join us. Yes, you’re wearing dog ears, and Viktor is going to squeal a lot and attract attention. It will probably be embarrassing, but you can’t die from that, and it will be over before you know it. Okay?”

“Okay,” Yuuri parroted, “Okay, okay. Okay.”

They maneuvered around each other so Yuuri could lean up against the wall. He leaned his head back, forcing himself to breathe evenly. In. Out. _Don’t think about Viktor_. In. Out. _Don’t think about Viktor_. In. Out. _Don’t think about Viktor and his sexy bare clavicle and his bright eyes and_ —

In. Out.

With each exhale, the knot of anxiety in Yuuri’s gut gradually unfurled. Before long, he felt like a semi-functional human being again. Time to face the music.

Carefully, Yuuri removed himself from his hiding place.

Viktor and Chris were now seated at a booth in the corner, chatting amicably with each other and Phichit. Phichit’s back was halfway obscuring Yuuri’s view of Viktor, making it easier for Yuuri to remain calm. With any luck, Viktor wouldn’t notice Yuuri until he was right in front of him. That way, perhaps Viktor would keep his ecstatic reaction at an indoor voice level.

Still, though the distance wasn’t far, the Ice Castle Café wasn’t designed to walk around neatly in. The ornate theme (which was, as the name suggested, a mix of medieval and winter aesthetics) included an array of unhelpful obstacles. The primary example of that was the array of wooden tables that came in all shapes and sizes, which made navigating the floor frustrating even on slow days. And then there were the low-handing (pretend) gold chandeliers, and the (pretend) ice statues that had to be taken into account, too.

 _Really, the Nishigori’s should look into moving into a bigger building_ , Yuuri thought irritably. 

Despite all the challenges, however, Yuuri managed to sneak to Phichit’s side before being detected. “Hey,” Yuuri greeted his three friends, quickly falling back into character, “Welcome to the Ice Castle Café, arf arf!” ( _Might as well show off for Viktor_ , Yuuri decided. Maybe he _was_ kind of interested in having Viktor coo over him.)

It was probably a mistake to lead with that.

“ _Yuuri_!” Viktor’s voice nearly went shrill enough to summon dogs. He leaped to his feet, nearly knocking the table and everything sitting on top it onto Chris’s lap. “Yuuri, _oh my god_!”

Phichit was quick to move out of the way so Viktor could launch himself into Yuuri’s arms.

“You’re so _cuuute_ ,” Viktor gushed, squeezing Yuuri’s face into his chest. (Viktor smelled a little like sweat, Yuuri noticed. Perhaps he had just come from a jog?) “You could give Makkachin a run for his money looking like that.”

“Um, isn’t Yuuri supposed to be working right now?” Chris butted in, though his voice made it sound as though he had less than pure intentions. Though, he always sounded like that.

Viktor let Yuuri go, and chuckled. “Right,” he said, “My apologies, sir.”

“Yes, sir,” Chris added, “Master Viktor and I would like a couple of lattes while we browse the lunch menu. Can you do that for us?”

And just like that, Yuuri realized that Viktor shrieking over his dog ears was the least of his problems. Chris and Viktor were looking at Yuuri with the same sly bedroom eyes. The words _Master Viktor_ echoed in Yuuri’s head. Now, Yuuri didn’t typically consider himself an, er, _experimental_ sort of guy, but he had been on the internet long enough to know that the whole master/servant thing was, well, a _thing_. It was a thing that Yuuri hadn’t thought he was into. Well, now he knew better.

“Y-yes, masters,” Yuuri forced himself to say, “Do you want any flavors, or is the default fine?”

Viktor gracefully slid back into his seat, his demeanor doing a complete one-sixty from when he was babbling over Yuuri’s ears. He propped his chin up with a hand, making himself look borderline demonic. “How funny,” Viktor said, “I thought dogs were supposed to bark.”

 _Fuck_ , Yuuri thought, _Fuck_! He struggled to convince himself that he did not think that Viktor teasing him like that was, in fact, incredibly hot.

“Woof,” Yuuri said flatly.

“Good boy,” Viktor praised. (Chris and Phichit started giggling, the traitors.) Viktor leaned forward, glancing up through his lashes at Yuuri. “I’ll have a mocha latte,” he purred. And then he did that thing with his eyes. That once-over thing, where his gaze swept over Yuuri from head to toe. “Please,” he added, eyelashes fluttering cutely.

“And I’ll have mine with caramel,” Chris said.

Yuuri opened his mouth to reply, but his throat was too dry. Every inch of his skin was burning under Viktor’s heated leer. He was about fifty percent sure that he was about to spontaneously combust into flames.

“We’ll take care of that for you, masters,” Phichit jumped in to save Yuuri, “Arf arf!”

\---

The remaining hour of Yuuri’s shift continued in a similar manner. Viktor insisted on sticking around until their time was up, consistently reordering various caffeinated drinks and snacks. The only thing Yuuri hated more than how Viktor kept looking at him with that _ravenous stare_ was how his coworkers clearly noticed. He lost count of how many times he caught Leo, Guang Hong, and Emil snickering in his direction. Even Yuuko seemed to have gotten wind of what was going on, and honest to god _winked_ at him at one point.

Needless to say, Yuuri was heavily regretting his choice of career by the time he was changing back into his own clothes. Even if the money was good, (like, really good) surely it wasn’t worth this embarrassment.

But when Yuuri and Phichit made their way into the street, Viktor greeted them with a box of freshly baked donuts from the Krispy Kreme down the road, and honestly? All was forgiven.

“All jokes aside,” Viktor began as they started on their way back home, “those dog ear headbands were adorable. Do you think they’d let me buy one once they’re done with them? I’d totally wear one of those on a regular basis.”

“We know you would,” Phichit laughed, “But yeah, I’m sure Yuuko would let you have one.”

Yuuri would have joined the conversation, if it wasn’t for the large bite of chocolate frosted donut in his mouth. 

The walk home wasn’t long. In fact, though they shared two cars between the three of them (one used to belong to Viktor’s mom, and the other one Yuuri and Phichit pooled their savings together to buy), it would have been a waste of time to take the car. It was far easier just to take the bike path back into the neighborhood.

As they rounded the last corner, though, Yuuri immediately noticed that something was off.

In front of their house, there was a partly crumbled stone stairway that cut through the yard, to make the steep climb up to the front door easier. On that stairway, curled up against the mailbox post, was a huddled figure surrounded by expensive-looking luggage.

Viktor and Phichit stopped, too, before sprinting forward.

Yuuri followed, a thousand fears rattling through his head, each one scarier than the last. He lagged behind, and watched as Viktor leaped up the stairs two at a time. Viktor shook the person once, twice, before they showed any signs of life.

Then the stranger’s head whirled around to face them. It was… a teenaged boy?

He was wearing sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, with the hood pulled low. His hair was sunshine blonde, falling all around his face, covering most of what his hood didn’t. Yuuri knew he had never seen this kid before, and yet… there was something kind of familiar about him. Something about the shape of his nose, maybe…

“You’re sleeping on our property,” Viktor said, after the initial relief of realizing that the boy was neither dead nor dying.

The teen didn’t look the least bit regretful about it as he gave an answering shrug. “No one came when I rang the bell,” he explained sourly. Then he stood up, and shoved his hands into his front pocket, glowering up at them as if _he_ was the one who just found a stranger napping on his lawn. Then, before anyone could point out the ridiculousness of his comment, the teenager demanded, “Where’s Klara?”

 _Klara_? _This boy knows who Klara is_? Yuuri wondered, looking at the strange blond in a new light.

“Klara… Nikiforov?” Viktor asked. His voice broke on the last syllable. Then, after a beat, Viktor pulled himself back together. “Klara… passed away, four years ago. In a car accident.” (Yuuri noticed that the teenager’s shoulders oh so minimally drooped at hearing this, though his face remained stubbornly stoic.) “I own this home now,” Viktor went on to say, “May I ask… how do you know my mom?”

“Your mom?” The teen surveyed Viktor carefully. It was clear that he was thinking hard, perhaps wondering if he could trust them.

“I’m Viktor Nikiforov,” Viktor confirmed, “Klara’s son.”

That earned him a slight nod from the strange boy, though he didn’t say anything at first. Then, after a few awkward seconds, the teenager started talking again. “I didn’t know your mom,” he answered, “I just knew _of_ her. My mom and her were friends, a long time ago.”

“Your mom?” Viktor prompted.

“Lena Plisetsky,” the teenager said, “Ever heard of her?”

Yuuri watched Viktor’s face carefully. It was a well-known fact that Viktor had a bit of a memory problem. But, then, Viktor’s eyes lit up.

“Oh, Lena! Yeah, my mom mentioned her before.”

“They went to college together, or something.” The teenager shrugged his shoulders, boredom and adolescent angst wafting off him in waves. (Really, Yuuri had never met anyone who fit the stereotypical edgy teen caricature so well. He would have thought it was funny, perhaps, in any other circumstance.) “The point is,” mister edgy said, “they had this other friend, a real douchebag by the name of Mikhail. That douche just so happens to be my father, and—”

“Wait, _what_?”

Everyone turned to Viktor, who had turned as pale as a ghost following that exclamation. Yuuri had never seen such a haunted expression on his face. It turned his stomach, honestly.

“Mikhail…” Viktor’s voice trembled, “Mom… she told me _my_ dad’s name was Mikhail.”

 _W-what_?? Yuuri had never heard that before. He whipped his head back and forth between Viktor and the younger boy. Was the stranger… could he be…? 

“Yeah,” the teenager said, sounding annoyed at having been interrupted. His shoulders inched up to his ears, giving him the appearance of a cat with an arched back. “Like I said, Mikhail is a bit of a dickbag. He bounced between a bunch of different women, knocking both our moms up in the process. Which makes us half-brothers, I guess.” Somehow, he didn’t look nearly as surprised by that bit of news as he should have been.

Viktor, meanwhile, was near hyperventilating. Yuuri instinctively put a hand to his back for moral support. It seemed to help, but just barely.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Viktor’s half-brother continued, “Let me try to shorten this sob story for you. My grandpa used to house and feed me because my mom was mentally unwell, but then his bad back got worse and he had to retire. So then I moved back in with my mom for a while, except now she’s back in assisted living and can’t work. I _tried_ to reach out to Mikhail, but he’s an ass, so he never got back to me. So… yeah. Basically, what I’m trying to say is that you’re the only person left that I can turn to.”

Viktor stared at the teen. The teen glared right on back at him. Yuuri watched them both, experiencing a surreal out-of-body sensation.

“Oh, and my name is Yuri. Yuri Plisetsky,” Yuri said.

\---


End file.
